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THE HARVEST IS PAST

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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 26, 1872

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 39, No. 15.

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THE HARVEST IS PAST.

By H. L. Hastings

Great God, since thou givest a day of probation, Prolonged for our good, and yet vanishing fast; Oh! shall we reject every chance of salvation, And heedlessly hasten to perish at last? Shall we stand lamenting ’mid sorrow and anguish, The mercies rejected and spurned to the last? Oh! shall we take up with the dread lamentation “The summer is ended—the harvest is past”?
In the day of thy judgment, shall we stand before thee, Heart-stricken with sorrow and doomed to despair? Oh! shall the bright radiance that tells of thy glory Devour us as stubble, nor linger, nor spare? Shall we to whom blessings and mercies are given To fit us to dwell in God’s kingdom at last, Unfitted for earth and rejected by Heaven, Lament as we perish, “The harvest is past.”
Great God, we would turn while thy vengeance delayeth, And yield to thy love ere we bow to thy wrath; Oh! list to each sinner who earnestly prayeth, And guide them from folly to wisdom’s blest path. So when all the world shall be rocked in commotion, And storms of red vengeance fall fiery and fast, Oh! then may we praise thee with heavenly devotion, And dwell with the saints when “the harvest is past.”
O God, our hearts yearn o’er the hosts that surround us, Who tread the dark path and afar from thee roam, Who sigh ’mid the sorrows that sometimes have bound us, Afar from thy presence, from joy, and from home. Lord, send out thy light and thy truth, we implore thee, And hasten thy work, while probation flies fast, Bring hosts of poor sinners to bow down before thee That they may be saved when “the harvest is past.”
Thou who art beholding in mercy and kindness, Thy creatures who stray from the pathway of peace, Who grope in their darkness and stumble in blindness, Oh! wilt thou not bid all their wanderings to cease? Oh! lead them to Jesus, whose love shall enlighten And scatter their gloom while time’s shadows shall last. Then shall their glad pathway eternally brighten, And shine like the sun when “the harvest is past.” —H. L. Hastings.